


Three Valentine’s Days Aaron and Robert Didn’t Have and the Real One They Did

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Couch Sex, Date Night, Hotel Sex, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romantic Meal, Stargazing, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: Exploring three romantic, sexy, silly Valentine's Days Aaron and Robert didn't have, and the "real" (or the most likely) one they did.





	Three Valentine’s Days Aaron and Robert Didn’t Have and the Real One They Did

**Three Valentine’s Days Aaron and Robert Didn’t Have and the Real One They Did**

**One: The sexy role play**

Aaron feels a shift in the bed, the sway of the mattress, and then a hand on his arse. Fingers hot and dry. He groans. A mouth appears under his ear, all breath and teeth on his ear lobe.

“Robert, no…” His voice gives way, less of a warning, more of a gentle protest. “I’m done in.”

His arse gets squeezed in response.

Aaron continues, voice thick with exhaustion and a mouth full of pillow. “You went hard at me.”

“You begged for hard. Remember?” It’s kisses under his ear lobe now, dangerously close to the sweet spot. He honestly can’t go again, whatever his dick says.

Aaron grunts. Robert removes his hand and Aaron refuses to let his disappointment rise.

“Relax,” Robert says. “I just woke up for a piss. I haven’t got any more left in me either. I just wanted to cop a feel.” Any excuse, Aaron thinks, though he’s hardly shy about being an arse man. 

The bed empties and Robert pads away. Aaron throws himself on his back and raises up his leg, trying to shake the cramp out of his foot. Is this normal now? Trapped nerves and aches when they’ve been at it rougher than usual? Aaron lifts his head up and surveys the hotel suite. His underwear over there by the window, the waistband pinged and the rest peeled down by Robert’s eager hands. Then there’s the ice bucket, the champagne, still knocked over, the ice pooling to mush on the luxury carpet pile. Aaron had tried to steady it with his hand when they’d walked into it, but Robert was already pulling him towards the bed saying _Leave it, leave it._

The suite’s a stupid size and Aaron feels guilty even stretching out his limbs on the bed, knowing they shouldn’t be here, knowing they can’t afford it. But Robert had booked it months back, straight after Christmas, straight after they’d made up after his arrest, and he’d paid upfront with stolen money and it was either have fun in the room at Graham’s expense or be a martyr and sit at home on Valentine’s. That was Robert’s way of dragging him here anyway.

Aaron shifts into Robert’s side of the bed and buries down into his warmth, his smell, rubs himself off a bit just for something to do. He thinks back to the previous night in bed at home, talking about the hotel trip.

“I’m gonna come straight from a meeting,” Robert said. “So I’ll just meet you in the hotel bar, yeah?”

“Alright.”

Aaron could sense Robert was holding his breath, steeling for something, so Aaron put down his phone, shifted to face him by leaning on his elbow.

“You gonna wear a suit?” Robert said, still keeping back something.

“If you want.”

Robert smiled, visibly swallowed. He was like this in the dark, in their own bed. Vulnerable, sexy. “You know I want.”

“What else?”

Robert shook his head as if to deny there was anything more, to laugh it off. But Aaron wouldn’t let it go, pinned him back with a look.

“I thought it might be fun to…”

“To…?”

“To be strangers for the night.”

Aaron smirked. Something in him wanted to scoff, roll his eyes. He’d feel self-conscious and stupid. But then he looked into Robert’s open expression and thought about being seduced all over again, thought about Robert the flirt, Robert wanting him so brazenly and making his play, that he got shivers.

“Okay.”

There were unwritten rules at play. They wouldn’t see each other all day after breakfast. Robert had meetings all day so the scrapyard was Aaron’s alone. They travelled in separate cars, with separate overnight bags and Aaron arrived, in a suit, before Robert as planned. Aaron wasn’t intending on playing an act when he got there, but instead of hiding in a corner as the bar got busier with couples, he stood at the bar, choosing whiskey – not beer – because it had a habit of quietening his nerves. He almost wanted to text Robert and call the whole role play thing off, but then a woman stood next to him smelling of strong perfume and tried making conversation so he was too distracted to text.

She was midway through trying to chat about something inane, flicking her hair, when she noticed his wedding ring.

“Shit,” she said. “Guess you’re not dateless after all.”

Aaron smiled apologetically and then wondered if he should have taken off his ring as part of the game. He couldn’t bear to.

“Your wife not joining you, then?” Somehow the sight of the ring had given her a bigger motivation to lean in.

“Husband,” Aaron said firmly, giving her no wiggle room. That word was still so satisfying. His mouth shone from saying it.

“Oh!”

She left him to it after that and Aaron was grateful for the breathing space, until he felt someone else take the stool next to him. Aaron hunched over his drink and wished Robert would hurry the fuck up so they could get over this awkward game and get to the undressing part.

“G&T and…whatever he’s having.” Aaron’s pulse quickened hearing the voice beside him. He saw the barman raise his eyebrows and walk away to make the drinks at the other end of the bar. Aaron could feel himself growing hot.

“Thanks,” Aaron said to the stranger, to the man that happened to be his husband. He couldn’t look at him yet.

“You’ve got to take pity on a guy sitting alone on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m actually waiting for someone,” Aaron said, allowing himself a glance at Robert’s profile. He was wearing a grey suit, no tie and a shirt open more buttons than usual. Aaron’s belly flipped. This was ridiculous. He spent every waking hour with the man, slept beside him every night and here he was dying to be touched, dying to see him out of his clothes.

“Business or pleasure?”

He knew what Robert wanted him to say. He knew he favoured the cheesy, obvious lines, but Aaron wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He wasn’t going to say _pleasure, I hope_ and get Robert stirring already.

The barman saved him, returning with the drinks. Aaron turned slightly to face Robert and raised his glass to cheers him. He resisted the wince as the burn hit the back of his throat.

“So, do you always make a habit of buying strange men drinks in hotel bars?”

Robert’s mouth twitched. He wasn’t expecting this kind of stranger, an upfront, challenging sort of stranger.

“Depends on the man.”

Aaron flushed, despite himself. Robert’s eyes gave him a long appraisal.

“And if his glass is empty.”

Aaron couldn’t resist the brief eye roll that slipped out.

“Too much?” Still in character, still flirtation hidden under false modesty.

“Not yet. I’ll wait and see.”

Robert’s hips adjusted on the bar stool. Deliberate, of course. Aaron allowed himself a look, just to remind himself of the prize at the end of this ridiculousness. Even if they had met at a bar, in another life, in other circumstances, would he have listened to all this guff? Would Robert have even bothered with his pick up lines? Aaron guessed it would have gone one of two ways – they’d never have spoken, or they’d have had a quickie somewhere out of bounds without many words exchanged.

“So why are _you_ here?”

“Investment meetings,” Robert replied.

“You rich, then?”

“I will be.” Robert flashed a smile. Arrogance, dimples. It was like a step back in time.

“That why you hang around places like this? Schmoozing?”

“It’s a good place to unwind. And their beds are worth it.” Robert ran his finger along the rim of the glass, not looking Aaron in the eye until the last second. Reeled in, hook line and sinker.

“You’re staying here?” By now Aaron knew he was pink around the collar. He could barely clear his throat. Robert’s knee touched his.

“Aren’t you?”

“Hadn’t planned to.”

“Really? Dressed up like that?” Robert leaned in, the trousers of his suit becoming impossibly tight over his thighs. “You wouldn’t be going home alone, that’s for sure.”

“You reckon?”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

Aaron tried to play it cool, returned to his drink. “You don’t even know my name.”

Robert stilled his gaze, let his smile come out smooth and measured, eyelashes down. “You can tell me on the way up to my room.”

“You’re very forward.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. As long as I get a turn.” Aaron raised his eyebrows, smoothing his words with a sip of his drink.

“I’m up for that.”

“Good.”

The air smarted. Aaron didn’t know if he was even going to be able to walk straight. He could already picture his fingers fumbling over Robert’s fly. It was stupid how much he was sweating over sleeping with this man whose body he had intimate knowledge of, but who felt like a challenge.

Aaron finished his drink, breathless, half-shaking and stood up before Robert even had a chance to empty his glass.

“Lead the way, then.”

They were in the lift, stood apart, fingers brushing, struggling not to smirk. The act was fading, their bodies both riled with arousal. Aaron noticed Robert tried to keep it cool, to stride ahead of him and slot the keycard in the lock, saying serious and formal things like – _Here we are_ – when ordinarily he’d be telling Aaron to get in the door and get his kit off. But as soon as that light pinged green all pretence was lost. Aaron was kissing Robert and pushing him in through the doorway of the honeymoon suite that Robert had paid a premium for.

“I hope you like champagne,” Robert said in a pause between the kissing, mouth red raw. Aaron hadn’t been gentle, but then this stranger act didn’t feel like the sort.

“Shut up, Robert.” Aaron’d had enough of pretending he wanted to play. He shoved two hands on Robert’s chest and tugged off his jacket. He’d got his hand on Robert’s cock before Robert had managed to cough out: _But I didn’t even tell you my name_.

* * *

 

**Two: The romantic home-cooked meal**

He should have planned this better, but his head has been in other things. Like cash flow, and client meetings and the surrogacy leaflets that had been shoved away in the bedside drawer. He leaves it to the morning of Valentine’s Day to approach Liv and ask her, kindly, if she wouldn’t mind making herself scarce for the night. The whole night. He’s planning on making it a successful one.

She’s in David’s rifling through the posh crisps, waiting for Jacob to crimp his hair or something.

“Have you two got plans tonight?” he asks her, sidling up next to her, bottle of wine in hand.

“What, me and Jacob?”

“No, you and the cheese and onion. What do you think?”

“Depends. What’s in it for me?”

“It’s either that or I lock you in your bedroom with a pair of earplugs.”

“Ugh. You’re sick.”

“Well then?” He presses for an answer, hovering with his wallet out in case he has to pay her off.

She looks at him like he’s an idiot, large glassy eyes and an open mouth. “Do you two not talk? Aaron asked me days ago. Guessed you two were gonna spend the whole night staring into each other’s eyes so me and Jacob are gonna go bowling.”

“Classic,” Robert says. “And I don’t suppose you could stay over at Gabby’s after…”

She rolls her eyes. “Already arranged.”

“You’re a star.”

“Just don’t ask me what Aaron’s planning.”

Robert’s gut falls. He hasn’t accounted for Aaron arranging anything, not after last year’s culinary disaster. “What’s he planning?”

“I said don’t ask!”

“I’m asking, so tell me.”

Liv shrugs, the spitting image of her narky brother. “I think there was a recipe involved. A blender.”

“But I’m cooking. That was the plan. Romantic meal, candles. The works.”

“Candles? You do realise this is _Aaron_.”

“Yes and in the right mood your brother appreciates a bit of romance…”

“Whatever,” she says. “You can sort it out between yourselves, I’m staying well out of it.”

With Liv out of the way and ingredients bought, the only obstacle in the way is Aaron. Robert considers something work related, but Aaron has been trusting Ellis more and more lately so he guesses that will backfire somehow. Ellis is the kind of bloke that even if he has plans for Valentine’s Day with Victoria, he’ll drop them to make a good impression on his boss, especially if it means Aaron letting him go early. Robert drops into the pub instead, hunting down Chas.

She’s stood at the bar, slightly spaced out, deep in thought.

“You alright? Only you look a bit…”

She soon snaps out of whatever trance she was in, focused by Robert’s dangerous trailing of words.

‘Look a bit what, Robert?”

“Er…nothing,” he says, backtracking. “Can I borrow a favour?”

“Aaron not with you?”

“No, that’s sort of why I’m here.”

She plants her hands on her hips, tilts her head to the side. “What have you done now?”

“Really? That’s why you think I’ve come to you.”

Chas pouts, sucking in her mouth as if to say: try me.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he says, waiting for her sarcastic expanse of arms at the tacky pink and red décor in the pub. “And I want to spoil him. Surprise him. I’ve got a whole meal planned and I’ve even convinced Liv to stay away.”

“Okay. And how do I come into all of this?”

“Keep him occupied for a few hours. Say you and Paddy have an emergency or a crisis – or anything. I’m desperate Chas. He thinks _he’s_ cooking for me and well…when he cooks he gets stressed and frustrated and that’s the last thing he needs right now after…” He trails off realising Chas doesn’t know the full picture. Tells her it’s about Billy instead of everything about the surrogacy going down the pan thanks to Graham ruining things.

She gets that glazed look again.

“So? Family crisis?”

“Sorry, love. It’s just with Paddy and his…situation, he needs me right now. You’ll just have to let Aaron burn the house down and eat the scraps after.”

The whole Bear Wolf hoo-ha had been talk of the village, but Aaron was adamant Paddy was old enough to know his own mind and didn’t need any more interference. They’d refused Chas’s begging texts asking them to come to the pub and cheer on this man that might have slept with Paddy’s mum and made a bumbling vet in the process.

Robert wants to sigh and huff and tell Chas she’s no use, but her mind’s clearly on other things too.

By the time Robert makes it home after a full day on the road trying to scrape together a client list, dusk is drawing in. He thinks he might just be able to rescue his plans after all, noticing there aren’t any lights on at home, but when he opens the front door something is amiss. The downstairs is warm and buttery, lights off and a few candles on the kitchen table. He hears footsteps upstairs and the quiet croon of Adele’s voice playing on their surround-sound. It isn’t Aaron’s favourite, but he gets sentimental at all the right times.

Robert doesn’t want to call out and disturb the peace, so he shakes off his jacket and has a quick peek at the dinner Aaron’s making. He’s rumbled a few minutes later, turning to see Aaron in a slim-fit shirt and a pair of black jeans. It’s a new shirt, new cologne too. Robert takes the time to look him over, leaning back against the sink to really make the most of it.

“You’re early.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” He almost swallows the word, biting off his own tongue before it hangs out of his mouth.

“I told Jimmy to keep you busy.” Aaron brushes past him to check on the cooking.

“You did what?”

“I knew you’d have something planned and I wanted to beat you to it for a change.”

Robert wants to kick back, feel that pulse of control kicking in, but he looks at Aaron’s effort and can feel nothing but a wave of gratitude, of love. Robert leans in, placing his hand on Aaron’s shoulder and kisses his cheek.

“This is amazing.”

Aaron smiles, a bashful one that makes his cheeks round and his eyes almost disappear. “You’ve not tasted it yet. This is attempt number two.”

“What happened to the first go?”

“I dunno. Chucked it,” he says. “I’m not a natural like you. I just wanted to do something special for you. For us.”

“This is more than enough.” He kisses him again, this time running his fingernails against the grain of Aaron’s hair, enough to make him squirm a little. Robert knows that doesn’t mean _geddoff_ , it means: _that’s too nice for me to handle right now_.

“Have I got time for a shower?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I want to run you a bath.” Aaron knows all about Robert’s love for a bath in the evening, a book, a glass of wine, expensive bath foam.

“Okay…” Robert follows him up the stairs, light on his feet with amusement. “I could run it myself, save you burning tea again.”

Aaron shoots him a glare, one that doesn’t quite have the intensity of real anger. He turns on the tap and Robert watches him hesitate, shrink into himself and lean up against the sink.

“Last year…”

Robert puts his hands over Aaron’s and stops any further regret and rumination with his mouth on Aaron’s. The bath bubbles away next to them and Aaron reaches to pour in the liquid that has Robert’s skin meltingly soft, his bones relaxed. He’s putty after a bath. Aaron’s intentions are obvious.

“You should’ve ordered a pizza, then we could have enjoyed this bath together,” Robert teases.

Aaron shakes an eye roll away, flicking bathwater at him, before stepping over to open the first two buttons of his shirt.

Afterwards, Robert puts on a clean shirt and his best underwear before leaping down the stairs two at a time and finding Aaron plating up. Talk over dinner is about the ordinary things in their lives, steering neatly away from any arguments and pauses for Robert to appreciate Aaron’s cooking.

“Go on, how is it really?” Aaron says. “You can be honest.”

“What? And risk no pudding?”

“Pudding? I didn’t-” Aaron’s eyes widen as the uptake on the joke finally dawns on him. He pushes the head of the beer bottle over his smile.

“ _Oh_ I’m getting pudding,” Robert says, leaning in with his tongue tucked behind his teeth.

“You reckon?”

Robert rubs his foot against Aaron’s. “Tea’s a ten out of ten by the way.” It wasn’t quite a ten, probably, but love makes everything taste better. He’s drunk on it, delirious. He could be eating beans straight from the tin and they’d still be the best thing he’d ever eaten.

Aaron gives a modest shrug of his shoulders, looking down fondly when Robert reaches to run his thumb along the back of Aaron’s hand. Time seems to drift in the dim candlelight. There’s no other moment than this that he wants to treasure, wants to bury down into.

“I’m the luckiest man alive,” Robert says, watching Aaron’s smile double in size. There’s a nod in there too, a recognition and agreement.

When Robert comes back from a trip to the toilet, Aaron’s at the sink making a start on the washing up.

“Hey you, stop what you’re doing right now,” Robert says, sidling up behind him and sliding his hands around Aaron’s waist.

Aaron tuts. “I just want to get it done.”

“And when did you get so old and sensible?” Robert pouts, crouching to rest his chin on Aaron’s shoulder. He turns his head, nudging Aaron’s to the side to kiss the sweet, warm skin of his neck. Under his hands, sweeping upwards, Aaron’s chest is solid and firm. Robert loves being held against this chest, held while he’s still shaking, on a comedown, held when Aaron’s heart thumps like it might break, held when it feels as if there’s nothing left in the world but the two of them.

Aaron doesn’t complain or push him off when Robert kisses his neck, when Robert uses the tip of his tongue. Aaron’s hands just go limp in the washing up bowl and his spine relaxes. The next track plays on the playlist and Adele’s voice returns, the piano of their first dance song making Robert’s hips sway side to side.

“No,” Aaron says, warning. It’s as if he can sense what’s coming next, Robert’s hands landing on his hips, rocking them both in time with the slow melody.

“Don’t even think about it,” Aaron says, trying to tense, to steady his feet on the ground.

“One dance,” Robert says, alternating his mouth between kissing and crooning Adele’s words.

“No.” Aaron dries his hands on a tea towel and pushes Robert off, tossing the damp cloth at him. He stands at the foot of the stairs, head cocked to the side. “Am I leaving you and Adele to it, or are you coming up for an early night?”

Robert drops the tea towel. He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

* * *

 

**Three: the special date night**

Robert only gets away with saying half the shit he comes out with tonight because Aaron’s enjoyably buzzed, his skin electric. He lets Robert tease, flirt his way between courses. They’ve ended up somewhere outside of Hotten, a new place that wasn’t buying into the Valentine’s Day hype, so didn’t have old straight couples eating set menus in silence, pretending to love each other one day a year.

Aaron can’t help but notice that this place is far more casual, full of first dates and boozey single girls and definitely a few gay couples too. It makes him relax. It’s the sort of place where the tables are squashed together and small, where they do steaks and burgers and beers with weird names. He loves it. And not just cos he’s a bit gone already, and not cos Robert has his shirt sleeves pushed up to the elbows and is by far the sexiest guy in the room, because he’s not like the preening guys in the far table who look like the sort who take gym selfies. He loves it because he’s with Robert. Their knees can touch and their smiles meet and his fingers can touch the top of Robert’s hand without either of them panicking. He’s tipsy. And he’s in love. And he’s happy.

Robert’s voice draws him back into focus. “It was a serious question.”

Aaron _pffts_ at him, stealing one of his chips. “And I’m not answering.”

“Go on,” he says, dragging out the words as if he’s drunk too, except he hasn’t touched a drop as he’s driving. “Where in the village?” He waits a breath, grinning. “You’re blushing.”

“Fuck off.”

“You are.”

“Because you said it too loudly and I’m pretty sure that table over there heard.”

“ _Where?_ ”

Aaron grins, looking down at the grimy remains of his plate. He plays with his knife and fork, tapping his foot on the floor. The way they’re sitting, the way they’re leaning in and touching and grinning, it’d be obvious to anyone what they are to each other. He’s proud of that, giddy on it almost. It’s surreal.

“It’s not like I have a bucket list of places I wanna…” Aaron says, cocking his head to one side. “What? Do you?”

The waitress stops by at this exact moment and asks if they’re done with their mains. She swipes their plates and offers them a look at the dessert menu.

“We’ll get the same again too,” Robert says, indicating to their drinks.

And when she steps away, Aaron leans his elbows on the table. “Pub car park,” he says. He’s thinking up against the wall, after closing, cold and dark.

Robert takes a second to register what he’s said. His eyes light up. “We had plenty opportunity living there.”

Aaron clicks his tongue. “Missed out there. Never mind, eh?” Grins.

Robert leans back, shifting in his chair, visibly irritated with himself. “You mum’s got more CCTV up and all now.”

Aaron laughs. “Robert. I’m not exactly serious.”

“Don’t spoil my fun.”

They share a sundae, though it’s mostly Aaron’s for the taking, with Robert ordering an Americano straight after. There isn’t any cliché feeding each other or Lady and the Tramp style moments with the caramel wafer, they mostly end up leaning in to talk about the other tables. Who’s on a date, who needs to get laid, who looks like date number two will be a non-starter.

“If we’d met like a normal couple, where would we’ve have gone on a first date?”

Robert raises his eyebrows. “Me, five years ago?”

Aaron scratches the surface of the table with his thumb nail. “You know what I mean.” It’s all suddenly shifted, got serious, the beer creating a dozy lull in his stomach. The restaurant has emptied out a bit.

“I know things should have been different.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“I wouldn’t have known what to have done. With you, with a guy,” Robert says in a way that makes Aaron feel sad, wish he hadn’t asked. “The physical stuff, that was always easy. It was everything else, everything that needed thought and emotion. And I’d have been too paranoid to take you anywhere in public, too scared in case anyone worked out we were more than two blokes having a drink.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it all up like this.”

Robert gives a slight shake of his head. “We’ve made up for it, haven’t we? _I’ve_ made up for it.”

“Yeah, hundreds of times. You’ve nothing to make up for.”

“Cos if you want to snog in the backseats of the cinema or watch me order something reeking of garlic I’ve got a whole list of bad dates we can work through.”

“I’m not exactly a dating expert myself, you know.”

“What was it? Scowl over a few beers until they found you irresistible?”

“Something like that.”

“Worked like a charm,” Robert says, taking the opportunity to show how much things had changed by taking Aaron’s hand across the table.  

Aaron feels a swell in his chest, knows the beer is making all his emotions rise to the surface. “I’d have fallen hard, however we’d met,” he says to Robert. Soft git. He frees up his hand and blinks before the tears can get to him. “You would’ve had to block my number if we’d had a one night stand.”

“It never would’ve been one night for us.”

After the bill’s paid, adrenaline of a good night seems to propel them out of the restaurant and they climb into Robert’s car, turning up the radio loud and putting the windows down. Cold air pours through the car, arresting them but making that buzz even louder. The night feels endless. Robert doesn’t make the correct turning home, but he says nothing and Aaron doesn’t either when he realises where they’re headed.

Robert parks up in the layby and shuts off the engine, pulling Aaron in for a short kiss and leaping out of his seat and out of the car. “Out you get!” he says.

“What you playing at? I’m freezing my bollocks off here!” Aaron says, hopping foot to foot as Robert looks upwards like a lunatic.

“You wanted to see some date moves. He are some moves,” he says, parking his backside on the bonnet of the car and shuffling until he’s half-laying down, staring at the night sky. It’s the perfect night. Clear, crisp, stars crystal bright.

“You want to look at the stars?”

“I want to stargaze, and look into your eyes and know that in this infinite world I managed to find you.”

“You are ridiculous.”

Aaron lays out next to him, arm curled up over his head. He knows Robert’s being ridiculous because he’s not even worrying about damage to the car. But this is their place. There’s more romance in this one country lane than in the whole of the night’s sky.

“Do you even know the names of any of these or what?”

“I can pretend,” Robert says. “If that’s what you want.”

“Pretending’s not as impressive. Anyone can point at stuff in the sky and pretend.”

Robert’s head turns towards him, hand resting on his chest. “Do you think there’s another universe out there?”

“What? You mean parallel?”

“Yeah,” Robert says, softly.

“With me and you?”

“Yeah.”

“Together?” Aaron looks at Robert’s hand on his chest and takes it in his own.

“Yeah.”

“I hope so,” Aaron says. He looks back at the sky, still slightly buzzed, as if the stars might give him an answer to a cliché question.

 

* * *

 

 

**And: The Valentine’s they did have**

Aaron has an envelope in his teeth when he comes back to bed, two steaming mugs in his hand. Robert runs his hand over his face groggily and elbows his way up the bed to wake himself up. The early morning blow job has really knocked it out of him – he even wonders if he’d dreamt it, but then he sees the state of Aaron’s tuffed and ruffled hair and knows exactly why it’s in that state.

The red envelope lands on his lap, a moon of wet where it’s been in Aaron’s mouth. Robert pulls him across the bed by the front of his t-shirt and tastes toothpaste on him, though Aaron gurns at the state of Robert’s breath.

“’Valentine’s Day is a waste of money,’ you said,” Robert says, opening up the card as the bed bounces with Aaron clambering over it.

“And it is,” Aaron says. “But I could hardly not buy you a card, could I?”

“Because I’m your husband.”

“Because you’d have a mood on _all_ day.”

Robert pulls the card out and smiles. It says “ _You’ll do_ ” on the front in glossy red letters. Inside there’s more.

_Robert,_

_Happy first Valentine’s Day as husbands._

_I love you._

_Aaron x_

“Don’t get excited. It’s nothing soppy.”

“It’s perfect,” Robert says. “C’mere.” He wrenches him closer for another kiss, hands edging under his t-shirt for lift-off, but Aaron’s head’s shaking, resisting and pulling away.

“Work,” he says.

Robert can’t even hide the whine, not when Aaron’s soft belly is right there, mouth height. He still smells of the bed, of last night’s sex, of that slightly musty sweetness of home they both share now. _Their_ smell. He pulls at Aaron’s waist, pressing his nose and hot breath against Aaron’s stomach. Aaron’s hands come down on the back of his hair, holding him there for just a second before pushing him away again.

“But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“So?” Aaron laughs it off, extraditing himself and rummaging for clothes.

“So, I’m meant to be shagging your brains out in a swanky hotel room or wining and dining you or-”

“What? A candlelit meal for two made by yours truly?”

“Be realistic,” Robert says, dryly, ducking as Aaron throws a balled-up pair of dirty pants at him.

“You can’t take me out anyway. We haven’t got any money. We’re saving, remember?”

“You can still sack off work and stay in bed. I’m all yours and -”

“You’re cheap?”

Aaron steps into the bathroom, leaving the door open so Robert can hear the clean rush of his piss. Romance is dead.

“Can’t anyway,” Aaron calls from the ensuite. “Ellis has the day off.”

“What? Why?”

“So he can cook for Vic. Quite sweet actually.”

“What’s the point of hiring someone when he doesn’t even work on the days you need off?”

Aaron comes out the bathroom, half his clothes shed so he’s just in his underwear, towel in hand.

“I don’t need today off just so you can pretend to be interested in cooking a romantic meal,” Aaron says.

“At least let me jump in the shower with you. I can scrub your back.”

“Nice try,” Aaron says and shuts the bathroom door firmly in his wake.

They don’t even get to share the office in the day, not with Aaron on a scrap run and absent for lunch, and Robert spending the entire day making begging phone calls trying to charm everyone back into bed with Home James Haulage. He still has the surrogacy agency homepage in his Favourites, reminding him every time he glimpses it, both what he’s failed at and what’s still at stake. The thought of the two of them holding a new-born baby in their arms spurs him to trawl through old emails, prising out long abandoned contacts and persuade like he’s never had to persuade before.

He gets a photo message from Aaron in the early afternoon. Robert had left him a card in the glove box of his car alongside a Lion bar and a packet of crisps. Aaron took a photo of the inside of the card and sent it to Robert with the message: _you soppy git x_.

_To my husband, soulmate, best friend,_

_You make my life complete._

_Robert x_

At least with Jimmy and Nicola on the rocks, Robert doesn’t have to suffer any loved-up couples and he manages to quickly swerve Faith and her bucket of roses when he heads home. There’s an unread text from Liv on his phone which he reads on his way in the door, her way of warning them: _Cinema with Jacob, home at 10:30. Don’t be gross._

Robert gets the takeaway pre-ordered, sticks on the surround sound and collapses on the sofa. The next thing he knows is there’s pizza box being wafted under his nose and his husband, changed out of his work gear and in trackie bottoms.

“I feel asleep?” he says, fist in his eyeballs, rubbing them until Aaron is smeary.

“You were snoring,” Aaron says, opening up the box to check which pizza is his. He’s got strict rules about topping contamination which Robert knows all too well after the one time he suggested they could do half and half.

“I was having a nightmare,” Robert says, standing from the sofa and hiking up his jeans. “It was Valentine’s Day and I was climbing out the bathroom window.”

Aaron shoots him a look and he raises his palms.

“Okay, not funny.” He puts his hands on Aaron’s middle to move past him, kiss his cheek and fetch the beers. Why the beer and carbs when he wants to get laid? Because if it means suffering the gas and lethargy for a while to get Aaron in a good mood then it’s worth it. Aaron’s beard has grown out a little and if this morning’s performance was anything to go by then the scratch has softened to something far more pleasing than stubble burn.

“You’d better get used to the snoring,” Robert says, cracking open two bottles and handing one over to Aaron, who’s now planted in the middle of the sofa, swivelled to receive the beer. “Once we’ve got a new-born in the house it’s officially a no sleep zone.”

He didn’t notice Aaron’s quiet shift, the lowering of his head, until he came back to the living area, pizza and napkins in hand.

“Hey, what’s with the face?”

Aaron shakes his head. “Pointless, isn’t it? Thinking about kids now.”

“No it’s not. I’m not giving up, Aaron. I’ll fight tooth and nail for that money. Grovel if I have to. It’s our future. Our family. We’re going to have a baby, okay?”

“It had just started to feel real.”

Robert sits down next to him, hand on his knee. “And it will be. I promise you. When we’re back in nappyland you’ll be wishing we’d never had this conversation.”

Aaron smiles, before it turns deadly serious, before he brushes pizza crumbs off his hand and slides it over Robert’s. “No I won’t.”

“Good,” Robert says, resting his head back a little on the sofa, looking into Aaron’s eyes.

They stick a film on, one they’ve seen before, interjecting sarcastic comments throughout, licking their greasy fingers and sharing the dip. There’s nothing special or romantic about it really, it’s like any other night, except for the absolute certainty of an early night and Liv being out hanging in the air. It makes Robert twitchy, makes him flirt a little harder, even if Aaron plays dumb and disinterested. There’s a part in the film where it’s dark and quiet and Robert palms over Aaron’s soft trackies in a disinterested unfocused way that he knows will drive him berserk. If Aaron’s going to be wanked off during a film (and there was that really thrilling time when they lived at the pub and there was a slight terror and rush to it, at the thought of being caught) then it needs to be rough and quick. It needs to have him gripping the cushions and puffing air on his face to cool down. It can’t be teasing or wandering, it can’t be a stroke just for fun. It has to mean business.

If Robert leans in close enough he can hear the hitches in Aaron’s breath, the slightly stabby sounds of air leaving his nose. He watches Aaron’s back arch a little, pelvis lifting and nipples pushing to attention under his t-shirt.

“I never get this bit,” Robert says, nodding at the screen, four fingers circling on Aaron’s clothed cock. Aaron’s skipped the underwear, so when Robert gropes he can feel everything, every pulse, every twitch.

Aaron’s jaw grinds. Robert smirks, knows exactly what Aaron’s thinking. Shut the fuck up and get your hand around me.

“I mean – has he worked out who the killer is at this point, or what?” Robert’s loving this. “Do you want to watch something else?”

This false obliviousness snaps something in Aaron’s patience and he takes the remote, turns off the TV and climbs onto Robert’s lap. The cocky _Oh_ in Robert’s mouth is knocked straight out of him as Aaron’s lips meet his, Aaron’s hands working to undo Robert’s shirt buttons. Robert’s hands go from the warm low of Aaron’s back to pushing under the elastic waistband of his trackies, feeling for the round of his arse. He wants to smirk about the easy access clothing, how his hot skin is absolutely fucking with his head, but Aaron’s pelvis is beating against him in a rhythm he wants to scream about. He wants to say _bedbedbed_ so they can do this properly, so he can slick Aaron with enough lube to have them both finished in minutes. So he can hear that satisfying clunk their bed makes when it rattles the photo frames on the bedside tables and makes a dent in the wall. So he can see the moonlight cast across Aaron’s scrunched-up-blissed-out face.

But in the end there’s no time for any of that. Aaron pushes his kecks down to his knees and Robert’s wriggles out of his jeans just the same. They manoeuvre to an awkward horizontal slant on the sofa, accidentally jab the TV remote on so that some comedy quiz show blares out as their cocks graze each other. There’s no romance in it at all. It’s primal rutting at best, hands, saliva, Robert panicking about getting come on the cushions again. He says _fuckfuckI’m-_ and Aaron pushes down hard with his hips to make the friction last, leans on Robert’s damp belly with his hand and says _Just a little bit more, please_ teasing out the word please so that Robert sees stars, forgets his own name. He hates himself for coming first, brings Aaron nearer by clutching his arse and promising pay back later. _You-better-mean-that_ Aaron says knowing that instead of screwing him into next week, they’ll probably end up dozing, cuddled, reminding each other about what needs replacing in the fridge.  

In the end, that’s all they need on Valentine’s Day. That’s all they want.

 


End file.
